


February 14

by ofplanet_earth



Category: Halt and Catch Fire
Genre: 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, Angst, Canon Compliant, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, I altered the timelines a little bit to fit, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-20 22:11:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9518258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofplanet_earth/pseuds/ofplanet_earth
Summary: A story told in glimpses of a single day throughout the years that separate Cameron and Joe— and ultimately bring them back together.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [criminal_intent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/criminal_intent/gifts).



**1973**

Catherine Howe was twelve years old the first time she fell in love. Bobby Spencer wasn’t the cutest boy in school, but then, she wasn’t the prettiest girl, either. He was in Computer Club when she was hiding out in Mr. Monroe’s classroom during lunch, and he smiled when she asked to sit with him, even though no one ever wanted to hang out with Catherine. He helped teach her Basic, and he didn’t even make fun of her when she made mistakes on that first day.

She used the club’s computer whenever she could get her hands on it, staying after school almost every day until she could code better than even Mr. Monroe.

Bobby kissed her two weeks later, when she showed him the very first program she’d ever written. Catherine didn’t mind that it was awkward— she thought he was sweet— but it wasn’t Bobby Spencer that she’d fallen in love with.

⏎

The Eiffel Tower after dark might have been one of the most beautiful sights Joe had ever seen, but it was best admired from the warmth of his hotel room. Paris was just as cold as New York in the dead of winter, but he could feel that the air was different here: lighter, and filled with promise. He never wanted to leave. 

“Are you coming back to bed?” Joe didn’t turn away from the window, at lest not yet. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” 

“Most romantic city in the world. But I think my view is infinitely better.” Joe turned to see Simon stretched out on the bed they shared, sheets tangled around his waist, propping himself up on one elbow and giving Joe a look that made him forget about the freezing cold outside. 

“Is it?” Joe smirked. 

“It is. Come back to bed and I’ll show you just what I find beautiful about it.” 

A smile and a blush crept over Joe’s face as he stepped away from the window to return to bed. The sheets were still warm and he climbed beneath them, the white cotton standing out against Simon’s dark skin like the lights of the Eiffel Tower in the night sky. 

“I wish we didn’t have to leave tomorrow,” Joe murmured against Simon’s chest, listening to the quickening leisurely beat of his heart. 

“We don’t have to. Not tonight. And Spain is just as beautiful as France.” 

“But tonight is perfect. I don’t want it to end.” 

Simon breathed in deep. With his ear pressed against Simon’s chest, Joe could hear the air whistling through his lungs as his heart began to beat faster. His fingers combed through the curls behind Joe’s ear. “I love you,” Simon whispered, but the words echoed in Joe’s ears as if he’d shouted them. 

Joe said nothing for a long moment. Simon’s hand had stilled in his hair while silence stretched between them. 

“Joe?” Simon eased up onto his elbows, forcing Joe to sit up and meet his eye. Another long moment passed in silence while Joe stared at Simon, searching. He unsure what exactly he was looking for, but he knew almost immediately that he wouldn’t find it. 

“I’m tired,” Joe said finally, and he knew right away it was the wrong response. “Can we talk more in the morning?” 

“Sure,” Simon sighed, rolling onto his side and facing away from him as he settled in beneath the duvet. “Happy Valentine’s day, Joe.” 

 

The next morning when Joe woke up, the bed and the hotel suite were both empty.

**1980**

Cameron was stuck. It wasn’t that the assignment she was working on was difficult— the material for her microcomputing course was rudimentary at best and she was eons ahead of everyone else in the class, but it was a prerequisite for all the courses that actually interested her. She was uninspired and bored senseless, and she was completely stuck. 

She found a music store in the city, wandering leisurely up and down aisles that were barely as tall as her hip. She picked up tapes like it was a reflex, inspecting them briefly before putting them down again. She came across the latest release from Romeo Void and was about to put it down again. She paused and took a surreptitious look around the shop instead. It was empty, and so she slid the tape into the front pocket of her backpack. 

“Shoplifting?” 

“What?” Cameron started, head snapping up to see a guy with long, tangled hair and a torn flannel shirt. 

“By the Slits. Have you ever heard it?” he asked, holding up a tape for her to see. “It’s my favorite song on this tape.”

“Oh,” Cameron laughed. “You scared me, I thought you like, worked here or something.” 

“I do,” the guy laughed. “But I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said, slipping the tape into his oversized coat pocket. Cameron laughed and turned back to scanning the shelves. “I’m Tyler,” he said, leaning against the tape racks.

“Cameron,” she answered, glancing to meet his eyes in time to see a crooked smile spread over his face. 

“How do you feel about The Police, Cameron?” 

“I guess that depends. The ones with guns, or the ones with guitars?” 

“Guitars,” Tyler smirked. “I’ve got a copy of Zenyatta Mondatta if you want to hang out for a while.” 

“But that’s not even out yet.” 

“Working here has its perks,” he shrugged. 

“Apparently,” she smirked, rolling her eyes when Tyler held out his hand, palm open and facing up, waiting for her to accept his offer with an ironic sort of chivalry— at least, Cameron hoped it was ironic. She looked him over again, eyes flicking from the rips in his jeans and his scuffed Doc Martins, studying the hint of a smirk that still clung to the corner of his mouth.

“Alright,” she agreed, taking his hand and letting him lead her toward the back of the store. It’s not like she had anything better to do anyway.

 

She left the music store two hours later with two new tapes, a flush bright on her cheeks, and the first hints of an idea clicking around in her brain.

⏎

“Joe,” came the voice from his office door. Joe sat behind his desk, staring at the view of the New York skyline out his window. 

“Dale,” he replied, not bothering to turn away from the window just yet. 

“Where were you last night?” Joe heard the door close, cutting off the noise from the cubicles outside and affording them some privacy. “You left without saying goodbye.” 

“Sorry,” Joe said, though he still didn’t turn to meet Dale’s eye and he didn’t mean it. “I had other business to take care of.” 

“Other business,” Dale mused with a wry tone. “You could at least tell me the truth.” 

Joe finally swiveled away from the window. Dale stood in a pristine suit with a blue striped tie, hair slicked back and perfectly in place. Worlds away from the way Joe had last seen him. “What do you want to know?” 

“What his name is.” Dale slid his hands into his pocket. He was trying not to seem bothered, but Joe knew better. 

He considered it for a moment before replying, “Jessica.” Dale’s eyes widened and his shoulders went tense. “Don’t act so surprised,” Joe said dismissively. “You knew this wasn’t exclusive.” 

“No,” Dale said, averting his eyes quickly. His voice was steady— professionally so— always concerned with saving face above all else. “No, of course not.” 

“Anything else you wanted to ask?” Joe reclined further in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. He was perfectly happy to play this polite game if that was what Dale preferred; it saved him the trouble of having to explain himself. He swiveled his chair back and forth at a leisurely pace while he waited. 

“No,” Dale said with a strained smile before turning to walk briskly away. “See you around, Joe,” he said over his shoulder, closing the door with more force than strictly necessary. Joe stared at the wood of the door for a moment before turning back to stare out the window.

**1983**

“Cameron… why are you here?” Joe asked, though he didn’t seem angry. Cameron paused, studying him in the silence it left. She hadn’t really realized what she’d been doing when she left Cardiff, but now she couldn’t be surprised this was where she’d ended up.

“I’m stuck,” she shrugged— that much should be obvious. She needed to get her mind off of bytes and code and ridiculous hardware limitations. She was tired of this game she’d been letting Joe play. Maybe it was fun at first, but Cameron wasn’t interested in playing some back-and-forth power struggle any more. 

She crossed the apartment, stripping off her shirt as she went, daring Joe to follow her. She wasn’t surprised when he stepped into the bedroom after her, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel just a little bit proud. 

 

Afterward, when Joe had fallen asleep, Cameron crept out of bed, tugged on the pair of panties and the tank top she’d thrown on the floor hours earlier, and dropped into the chair in front of his computer. There was something ironic about this— writing BIOS for an IBM clone _on_ an IBM. 

Cameron felt like a dam had been opened in her brain, and suddenly the screen was filled with the code she’d been struggling for days to come up with. She wrote until the sky turned pink over the Dallas skyline, when she couldn’t keep her eyes open long enough to keep typing. Joe was still sleeping when she crawled back into bed, eyes dry and burning from staring at the monitor for so long.

 

When she woke up again, the bed was empty. She left the bedroom, still wearing only her panties and tank top, but Joe wasn’t out here, either. The clock on the stove read 2:15pm, and she spotted a note left on the keyboard. 

_Don’t worry about calling in. Keep working, and I’ll see you tonight._

Cameron turned on the coffee maker and raided the sparse fridge. All she found inside was a quarter gallon of milk, two eggs, and half a loaf of bread. She rolled her eyes, took two slices of bread, and dropped them into the toaster. 

Cameron was coding when Joe came home. He came to lean his weight against the desk beside the keyboard. His suit jacket and tie were slung over his arm, his shirt unbuttoned at the neck and rolled up at the wrists. “What are you working on?” 

“The address calculation code. It’s perfect, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.”

“You think you can take a break? I got us a dinner reservation.” Cameron glanced at him where he was leaning in to scan the code on the monitor, one hand bracing himself on the desk and the other resting on the back of her chair. 

“I’m on a roll,” she said, fingers barely pausing as they flew across the keys. “And I’m not dressed.” 

“Okay,” he nodded. “Sure.” He was trying to hide it, but Cameron could hear that he was disappointed. She couldn’t understand why— wasn’t this what he wanted? She’d been stuck for days and they’d done nothing but bicker for weeks, all because she couldn’t write the BIOS fast enough. Now she was writing code and he wanted her to stop? 

“Is something wrong?” She asked, more out of curiosity than concern. 

“Not at all,” Joe said, turning his hundred-watt smile on her and standing to his full height. “I’ll make some calls, switch some things around.” Cameron’s hands hovered over the keyboard as she watched him walk toward the kitchen. She frowned. Then she shook her head, turned back to the monitor, and resumed coding.

 

An hour later there was a knock on the door, and after going a whole day with only dry toast, the smell of hot food was enough to draw Cameron temporarily away from her keyboard and into the kitchen. 

“Here we go,” Joe said, motioning to the crowd of takeout containers spread over the island counter. “No pants required.” 

“My favorite,” Cameron said, earning a smile from Joe— a real, genuine smile. It made her feel absurdly proud that it was meant for her, and nobody else.

“It’s Chinese. I hope you don’t mind, but they’re the only place that would deliver on such short notice today.” 

“What do you mean?” Cameron frowned as she settled into one of the stools by the counter, the cushion cool against her bare legs. 

“Everywhere else was booked or had a two hour wait.” 

“What? Why?” 

Joe sat on the stool beside her, still wearing his button-down shirt and pressed slacks, though he’d ditched his belt and shoes. “Cameron,” he laughed but there was something nervous about the sound, like his program had just frozen in the middle of a project he hadn’t backed up for hours. “Don’t you know what day it is?” 

“Uh,” Cameron mumbled around a bite of orange chicken. “Monday?” 

Joe laughed again, but the nervous edge was gone. “Yeah,” he nodded and reached for a folded carton of rice. “It’s monday.” 

 

It wasn’t until the next day, when Cameron saw the pink boxes of chocolates and candy hearts someone had left in the break room, that she realized it had been Valentine’s day.

**1984**

Nothing was good enough. Joe had tried, had put every ounce of his energy into this project and in the end, all he had to show for it was a cold metal box. The Giant was everything he’d promised it would be: it was fast, it was small and it was cheap. By all measures, it was exactly what he’d wanted. But it wasn’t memorable. It wasn’t revolutionary. It didn’t change anything, at least not in the way he’d hoped.

There was nothing in Joe’s life that he could be proud of. For all his talk about big ideas and big gains, the only thing he’d ever found was disappointment. After so many years, he had to wonder if maybe he was the common denominator— if maybe it wasn’t his ideas that were flawed— maybe it was just him. 

Sometimes Joe thought he only knew how to do one thing: burn bridges. Cameron, Gordon, Simon… his father. Joe had burned them all. Even when he thought he was doing the right thing, even when he was sure he’d made the right decision, it was never enough. _He_ was never enough. Everything he touched inevitably went up in flames. 

It was difficult to tell in Texas, but it was the dead of winter. Joe was used to snow and ice this time of year, but he hiked miles and miles of dirt trails in the middle of February wearing nothing but a light jacket.

His mother had been here before she died. He was sure of it. Of course he had no proof that she’d been there at all, but when he finally broke through the tree line and stepped out into the open field, saw the dome of the dormant telescope just waiting for the sun to set, he knew he was right. He had to be.

He couldn’t say exactly what he’d gone there hoping to find, and looking back on it later, he wasn’t sure he ever really had. But in that moment, finding Sara there after not hearing from her for years— the sheer coincidence of it— he couldn’t help but think that was where he was meant to be.

**1986**

It was only 6pm, but Mutiny sat empty and dark. The lights and computers had all been switched off except for the ones in Cameron’s office. Everything was quiet except for the soft hum and intermittent click coming from her computer. She stared at her monitor as she slouched in her desk chair, feeling the silence press in around her and wondering what was wrong. 

This was what she’d wanted more than anything— to bring Mutiny to California, to be in the middle of it all, to have the chance to make a difference where it really mattered— and she’d done it. But now she just sat there, staring at the cursor as it blinked against the dark screen. 

Everybody had gone home early— they all had plans tonight. Even the guys who hadn’t been able to find a date were all off at some bar downtown. Cameron had no reason to complain. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been invited— she’d turned down more than one offer this week— but she still found herself feeling abandoned somehow. 

She tried not to think about Tom— or about Joe. She’d wasted too much time feeling sad and hurt and angry, and she’d promised herself she wouldn’t dwell on it anymore. But the dark silence of the office left her feeling lonely, and she couldn’t seem to shake it.

She could go home, but she’d already told Donna she couldn’t watch Haley and Joanie tonight, and Cameron knew she’d make her feel guilty about having to find a babysitter if she showed up now with no plans. She shook her head and sat up in her chair, banishing her self-pity with a sigh and focusing on her keyboard instead. 

Cameron typed in a few commands and pulled up the system admin to check the network stats. 2,541 users currently signed on. She smiled. Sometimes she couldn’t believe how much Mutiny had grown since she booted up the first server XT in her bedroom three years ago. Cameron browsed the Community boards, finding threads on everything from vintage guitars to personal posts for people looking for dates for tonight. There were still people posting there— apparently they hadn’t found dates, but they didn’t seem too bummed about it now that they were chatting. 

Cameron left the thread, not bothering with the private chats and navigating to join a game of tank battle instead. Cameron may have been alone in the building, but Mutiny was more than an old warehouse and a second-hand main frame. Mutiny had always been about the people, and thousands of them were logged on, playing games and talking to each other from across the country.

The game started and Cameron didn’t feel so lonely anymore.

⏎

Joe still had his anonymous subscription to Mutiny. At first it was curiosity. Then with WestGroup’s new server deal, it only made sense to keep supporting the company that kept his project running. Next came the guilt after everything that had happened with WestNet, and now… he told himself he enjoyed the games, but it was more than that. 

Even back then, he hadn’t been prepared for how it would feel to have that connection to Cameron again. He still wasn’t prepared for it. 

Tank battle was simple, mindless— a good distraction from boredom and monotony. He should have been better at it, with how often he found himself playing these days, but he always seemed to shoot too early or too late. His timing was always just a little off. He was surprised to see Cameron’s name at the bottom of the screen after his tank exploded— surprised to see that he’d played her for ten minutes without noticing. He was still for a moment, staring at the chat box below the battlefield before he finally began to type. 

_No big plans tonight?_ he asked. 

_These are my big plans,_ CamHowe responded after a few seconds.

 _Mine too._

_Wanna go again?_

_You’re on,_ Joe replied without hesitation.

**1989**

Joe lay on the couch. The only light in the apartment came from the televisions on the far wall and the dim lamp by his head. He answered the phone when it rang, speaking in clipped, bored tones. His brain was working, running the race he’d always been so good at, but his heart wasn’t in it. 

The world was bright and loud outside, but Joe kept the windows closed and the blinds shut tight— disinterested or maybe afraid of whatever lay beyond— he wouldn’t let himself linger too long on which it was. 

_You destroy lives,_ the phantom voice echoed around the walls of his apartment, the guilt pressing in close in the small space. At the time, he hadn’t believed it. Nathan Cardiff was just angry and bitter, and he would have said anything to Joe to make himself feel better about losing control of his own company. 

But now, Joe understood that he’d been right. He ruined Nathan’s life, and Bosworth’s. He’d ruined Cameron’s and Gordon’s and R— 

Joe hung up the phone, not caring that his contact had been in the middle of a pitch. He closed his eyes against the ache that swelled in his chest whenever he thought of Ryan. He’d been so bright, so talented and passionate, and Joe had snuffed it all out. He’d manipulated and used him. He might as well have pushed him over the ledge with his own two hands, and he’d never forgive himself for it. 

He picked up the phone again without thinking, dialing a number that hadn’t been in service for years. He listened to the automated message that told him he’d called the number in error, but he knew what he was doing. He knew he’d ruined all his chances, that he wouldn’t be able to reach her. She wasn’t even in the country anymore. 

Joe thought of the conversation they’d had years ago, when he saw Cameron’s wedding ring. He remembered thinking, _this is what it must have felt like for her._ He’d told her that happiness wasn’t the same thing as love, that it was easy to confuse the two when they felt so close together. 

What he hadn’t realized yet was that a lot of things felt like happiness when you had them. Now that he’d seen what it was like to really lose someone— to lose everyone— he couldn’t help but to wonder if it was better not to wonder where the happiness originated and to hold on to it.

He hung up the phone and dialed again, the buttons beneath his fingers sending a jolt of anticipation through him. He lay there, suspended in those few seconds when he could pretend he might still hear her voice, until the message began again. 

_We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed is no longer in service…_

**1991**

It was still so surreal, to be at Mutiny again— to be working with Gordon and Joe again. In some ways nothing had changed. Listening to the two of them bicker, Cameron could close her eyes and imagine they were all back in Texas again. She half expected to open her eyes and see the dank walls of the Cardiff basement, Joe standing over her wearing a tailored suit and a silk tie knotted tight around his neck. 

But then she would open her eyes again, confronted with this strange, subdued version of Joe. She still wasn’t really used to seeing him in a knit sweater and jeans. So much had changed since they’d worked at Cardiff together. They were both completely different people back then.

But there were some things that would never change. They were still the same ambitious, passionate, volatile people they’d always been and somehow, they kept coming back to each other. Like no matter what they did, they were destined to be caught in one another’s orbit; constantly pulled back in, circling closer and feeding off of each other, their energy burning bright even when they clashed.

Cameron turned her attention back to her computer screen. It was four years outdated, but it worked well enough for their project. This thing they were working on, it really could be huge. Not like the Giant— not even like Mutiny— their computer had made waves for sure, but this project had the potential to change everything. Mutiny had been on the right track but Cameron couldn’t even have imagined anything on this scale back in ’86. 

And she’d be lying if she said Joe didn’t have anything to do with it. Cameron was smart and she was creative, but Joe had always had this ability to see things other people couldn’t, to see what was next and make it happen, no matter the cost. 

Back then Cameron thought the cost had been her— that he’d weighed their relationship against the success of the Giant and she’d lost. Back then she hated him for it, but now she understood that she was as much to blame for the outcome as he was. She wondered sometimes if their roles had been reversed— if she’d been the one forced to make a decision like that— would she have done it differently?

She couldn’t be sure that she would have.

Cameron leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting around the brick of her old office and through the window looking out over the main floor. She could see the splintered hole where Joe had fallen through the warped wood. 

She turned to her computer again, the date in the corner of the screen catching her eye. She hadn’t noticed what day it was— had barely noticed that over a month had passed since she’d come back to California after the new year. Tom had called her at nine that morning— 2am his time— wishing the answering machine in her hotel room a happy Valentine’s day. 

She hadn’t returned the call. 

Now she stood from her desk, slung her purse over her shoulder, and strode out into the late California afternoon. 

 

When she returned with two paper bags clutched in her arms, Joe was standing in the main room, arms crossed over his chest while he stared at the code and diagrams scribbled on the white board. He turned when she kicked the door closed behind her. 

“Hey,” she said, crossing the empty floor. “I brought some food.” 

“Great,” Joe said, his tone distracted and his eyes darting back to the board. “Where’s Gordon?” 

“Gone for the night. I think he’s got a date or something.” Cameron set down both her bags on the table. “I hope you don’t mind Chinese food.” She stole a glance at Joe’s profile, waiting for the flicker of recognition. When it didn’t come, she added, “It’s all I could find on such short notice.” 

Joe turned to her then, one elbow perched on the opposite arm so he could worry at the corners of his mouth with his right hand. The small crease between his eyebrows eased and he seemed to really focus on her for the first time since she’d come through the door. Cameron pulled a bottle of whiskey from one paper bag and a folded takeout carton from the other, flashing a grin. “All work and no play makes Joe a dull boy,” she intoned. 

Joe smiled— a small thing on its own, but it was genuine, and it reminded Cameron of the moment she’d first seen him at Comdex a couple of months before— like the expression had become foreign to him over the last four years. She had no trouble believing that it was. 

His hands fell to his sides as he took a step toward her, away from the white board. He moved to pull out one of the chairs lined up next to the table but Cameron shook her head and returned the rice and the whiskey to their respective bags. “I have a better idea.” 

 

Winters in California were different than in Texas or Japan. Here, it was mild all year, whereas Dallas had been a slow swing between sweltering and moderately warm, and Tokyo was about as warm in the summer as Dallas was in the winter. 

The sun was just setting below the tree line at the edge of the property, leaving the fire escape outside Cameron’s office in a cool shadow. An easy quiet settled over them as they sat side by side with the window to their backs, eating straight from the cardboard containers and passing the bottle of whiskey back and forth. 

Then Joe asked, “How’s Tom?” It was anything but a casual question and Cameron knew it, but she answered anyway. 

“He’s alright, I guess.” 

“You don’t know?” 

Cameron shook her head as she slowly tipped the bottle of whiskey to her lips. “He called this morning, but I didn’t pick up.” 

“I hope I didn’t…” Joe began before trailing off, seeming to struggle to find the right words. “I didn’t mean to drive you apart,” he finally said.

“No,” Cameron agreed. “But you can’t tell me you aren’t happy that you did.” 

“Cameron—“ 

“I’m not blaming you,” she said, turning to level him with an honest, sober stare. “I understood what I was doing. And it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t wanted it to.” Silence stretched between them for a minute or two. Cameron set the bottle on the metal grate between them. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t need to goad him about it when he was here.” 

“I mean, yeah, that was pretty shitty.”

“I think I got some pretty immediate retribution though,” Joe said lifting the wrist that had only recently been freed from its plaster cast. 

“You can’t give yourself all the credit. He said some really… _really_ terrible things to you, too. He was way out of line.” 

“Yeah,” He whispered. “But still, I’m sorry. It was a very… _Joe MacMillan_ thing to do.” 

For a moment they were both silent, but then Cameron’s composure cracked, a laugh spilling through her teeth and into the calm air. She slapped a hand over her mouth, knowing it was terrible to laugh at something so self-deprecating. But Joe was laughing too, and Cameron angled her knee to knock against his leg. He lifted the bottle of whiskey to his lips, his laughter trailing off behind the lip of the bottle. 

“Do you remember that day, back in ’83?” Cameron asked, her knee still leaning against the strong line of Joe’s thigh. 

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Joe’s smile was bright in the warm light of the sunset. 

“That first night I stayed over your place. And you’d made reservations, but you cancelled them last minute because I was working.” 

“And you didn’t want to put on pants…” 

“Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me it was Valentine’s day?” 

“Honestly? I thought you knew. I thought you were just being a smartass about it.” 

“That sounds like a very Cameron Howe thing to do.” 

“It does,” Joe agreed. 

“But… what I’m trying to say is…” Cameron paused, unsure of what exactly she _was_ trying to say and how to say it. “I didn’t know what you were asking. And I could have put on pants. I would have, if you’d told me.” Joe was silent while Cameron looked out over the empty lot beneath them, and when she glanced over, she saw that he was watching her. Studying her. 

“I think you did some of your best work when you weren’t wearing pants,” he said after a moment. 

“You’re not wrong,” Cameron shrugged. “I still do.” She watched the lines crease at the corner of Joe’s eye when he smiled. 

“I never really told you how amazing it was. How… completely in awe I was of you and your ideas. Do you remember the first thing you told me? That in ten years computers would be connected over a unified network using a standard protocol. And now look at us— that’s exactly what we’re working on.” 

Cameron studied him for a moment. “I can’t believe you remember that. _I_ don’t even remember it.” 

“You understood our connection with technology far better than I ever did. You _got it_ , even back then. I never apologized for letting Gordon scrap your OS. Even once I’d realized that I’d made a mistake, I was still too proud to admit it.” He was shaking his head and looking down at where his hands clasped the square glass bottle of whiskey. 

“It’s not like that OS was revolutionary.” 

“Maybe the code wasn’t, but the feeling it inspired… that could have been revolutionary, if we’d let the world see it. If I hadn’t thrown it away for a few extra bytes per second.” He turned to her, head still leaning against the glass behind him. “But you knew. You saw what computers would become even before I asked you to help me build one. I’m sorry I didn’t see it, too.” 

Cameron wondered what would have happened if Joe had told her all this after Comdex all those years ago. She wondered if she would have forgiven him, if they would have stayed together, or if they’d still be together now. Somehow, she didn’t think so— somehow, she knew it had to happen this way— but it was still nice to hear. A dozen replies rose and faltered in her throat, none of them making it out of her mouth. Instead, she reached for the whiskey still held in Joe’s hands, set the bottle down beside her, and leaned in. 

It was still strange, feeling the scratch of a beard beneath her hands and against her lips— it was so unlike her memory of him from eight years ago— so unlike the last four years with Tom. She scratched her fingers against the coarse hair and thought, just as she had at Comdex a few months ago, that she liked it. 

“Cameron, I—“ 

She swung one leg over Joe’s, kneeling over him, her back curling down, silencing him as their lips clashed. He sat upright, chasing her as she shifted her weight, trying to ease the pressure of the metal grate beneath her knees.

“Inside,” she whispered, struggling to stand on trembling legs. Joe pried open the window and ducked through, holding out a hand to help Cameron down from the ledge and pulling her immediately against him. 

Cameron’s old office was empty except for the desk and computer they’d dragged up from the basement. A small desk lamp sat on the floor in the corner, casting wide shadows across the room. Joe held her close but his hands were gentle at the small of her back, hesitant where hers were desperate. She backed herself against the brick wall, pulling Joe flush against her. She arched her back, pressing her hips against his and and tugging at his lower lip with her teeth. 

He groaned, his eyes so close to hers that she could see his pupils blow out wide and flash in the low light. She did it again, waiting for his hands to grip fiercely at her hips and grind her against him, but he reached to touch her face instead. “Cameron,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over hers. “We don’t have to rush.” 

She opened her eyes again to see him studying her, his eyes soft even as his breath was ragged against her cheek. He kissed her then, slow and purposeful, and she was surprised to find it was just as intense, just as consuming as she’d been craving.

Cameron looped her arms around Joe’s neck, holding him close while she let the urgency leech out of her. His hands were large against her back, gentle as they slid beneath her oversized jacket, fingers spread wide across her ribs. She kissed him again, easing herself into the unhurried pace he’d set as his tongue snaked past her lips. Her heart was beating fast and hard inside her chest, so loud in her ears she worried Joe could hear it, too. 

She reached up to pull his glasses from his face. He slipped her jacket off her shoulders, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her to him, fingers tracing the small sliver of skin exposed beneath the hem of her shirt.

They continued this way, slow and heady kisses punctuated by heavy breaths and whispered exclamations, hands slipping beneath clothing and taking the time to map out stretches of bare skin like it was the first time. 

The wood of the floor had been worn smooth but it still poked at the soft skin of Cameron’s bony shoulders. Cool air rushed in around her when Joe sat up, leaning sideways to retrieve something from the pocket of his jeans. 

“I’m on the pill,” Cameron said when Joe turned back to her, tearing a condom wrapper with unsteady hands. He might have had one with him at Comdex too, but she hadn’t noticed.

“I always carry one with me. I’ve seen too many people get sick not to be safe.” 

Cameron took the wrapper from him, sitting up to press a kiss to his solemn lips. She unrolled the condom onto Joe’s cock, excitement spreading through her at the hard feel of it in her hands. She let her kisses trail downward, over the cords of his neck and the ridge of his collarbone, more prominent now than she remembered it being back in ’83. Then she reached the first of the old scars on his chest, pressing her lips against the torn skin, regret for the things she’d said in the past ghosting silently over every damp inch. 

Joe’s hands found her cheeks, fingers carding through her messy hair and pulling her gently away from his chest. He tipped her chin, his eyes wide and unguarded when she looked up to meet them. His breath fell harsh against her lips as he leaned her backward against the cool wood again. 

Cameron lifted her hips off the floor, her impatience finally winning out as Joe began to press into her. Warmth swelled beneath her skin until it was almost unbearable. He braced himself on his elbows, arms bracketing either side of her head as the world around them fell away, soft and blurred at the edges of her vision. 

She reached up, one hand landing on his shoulder as the other found its way into his short hair, pulling him down into another kiss as his shallow thrusts grew deeper; hesitance or consideration giving way to mindlessness and desperation.

Deep moans seemed to vibrate through Joe’s chest and tumble from his lips while Cameron’s words came out as breathy gasps, begging _yes_ , _please_ , and _don’t stop_. She felt like she was flying apart, heat and pressure building beneath her skin until her nerves felt frayed and sensitive where Joe held her, where the cool breeze from the open window touched her skin. 

The light from the lamp in the corner fell on Joe’s cheekbone and his shoulder, the tendons in his throat raising beneath his skin in the warm light. She felt like every atom in the universe had conspired to bring them together; like every moment they’d spent apart had only served to lead them here. 

“Cameron,” Joe gasped, her name like a plea on his lips. 

“I know,” she panted, even though she wasn’t sure what it was he’d meant to say. Sweat beaded and cooled on Cameron’s skin, burning with the proximity of Joe’s body and the friction between them. She closed her eyes when she couldn’t hold back anymore, every sensation driving her further toward the edge. She held him close as she felt herself fall, knowing he was right behind her.

⏎

Joe’s heart beat erratically in his ears and his arms trembled as he struggled to hold himself up. Cameron’s legs were wrapped around his hips, still holding him inside. He was almost afraid to move, afraid she would let go and disappear again. 

She laughed from her place on the floor beneath him and her fingers loosened their grip on his hair. Her legs unwound from around him and he slipped out, collapsing on the floor beside her, dreading the next few seconds.

She sat up, climbed to her feet and closed the window before crouching over her the mess of their clothes. Joe clenched his jaw and schooled his expression, preparing to let her go if that was what she wanted. But then she lay down again, bundling his sweater on the floor and draping her jacket over their them both. She huddled close to his chest and Joe wrapped his arms around her, feeling the slight tremble of her shoulders from the cold.

He brushed the hair back from her temple and pressed a kiss to her forehead, feeling her smile against him. “Cameron,” he whispered. He almost didn’t say anything— didn’t want to spoil the perfection of this moment, but he had to know. “Is this—“ he faltered, the words coming slowly to his sluggish mind. “I don’t think I can do… this with you if you’re planning on going back to— back to Japan.” 

He studied Cameron’s face in the faint light, the lamp in the corner just enough to catch and reflect in her eyes as she watched him. “I’ll have to go back to Japan sooner or later. All my stuff is there. But that’s not what you want to know.” 

No, it wasn’t. Joe shook his head. 

“Ask me.”

“Are you going back to him? Back to Tom?” 

The room was silent for a long stretch of time, Cameron’s breath against Joe’s neck and the solid feel of her beneath his hands the only signs that she hadn’t vanished already. 

“No,” she finally whispered. “No, I’m not going back to Tom.” 

Joe’s heart thrilled at the words, a smile so wide his chapped lips threatened to crack under the strain spreading over his face. He drew Cameron closer beneath their makeshift blanket and kissed her, though his smile threatened to break their lips apart. 

He was in love with her. He’d known it for years, but now he was filled to bursting with the warmth of it, the truth and the promise of it. He held her tight against him, finally here with him after so much time spent apart. He’d wasted too much time on pretending and being proud. He loved her, and this time he wasn’t going to push her away. This time, he would prove it.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Cameron.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure you know exactly who wrote this story for you, but I chose to be a tiny bit selfish and pump you for information while keeping the fact that I was given your name a secret. it really helped me when I was stuck, and I was happy to know I was writing something you'd love. and plus, the best part of writing a story for someone is collaboration! 
> 
> happy valentine's day! I hope you enjoyed it!


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